In a cold cave draped with thick, coiling vines, nestled beneath the jagged peaks of a mountain that loomed over a dense, shadowy forest with the shrubs, grasses and trees having increased in numbers and length, Sonia Brakor awoke. Her body encased in stone—a seamless sculpted prison that molded and clung to her every curve and limb. Though alive, panic clawed at her chest as she realized the weight of the predicament she was in, moments from suffocation, she felt herself teetering on the edge of death once more.
Her eyes darted frantically around the silent carven that seemed to let the cold wind blow in, and she could feel it biting at her through her stone prison. Through the dim light, she glimpsed a clear, translucent, narrow stream trickling along the cave floor, its waters vanishing into the echoing depths of a hidden waterfall. The steady plink-plink of droplets falling from the ceiling punctuated the stillness, one landing coldly on her forehead. Desperate, Sonia thrashed against the stone, her muscles and figure straining until—with a final, shuddering crack—she shattered her rocky confines. Gasping for air, she collapsed forward, sweat mingling with the dampness of the cave as she fought to steady her breath.
Freed from the stone, her true form emerged. She stood tall at five feet nine inches, her frame both powerfully muscular and unmistakably voluptuous. Tangled strands of overgrown hair fell into her hands—hair that was now an eerie, luminous white. She traced her fingers over her face, heart pounding as she felt unfamiliar angles and contours. This body… it wasn't hers. Or was it?
Why? Had her memories fractured?
Or was she never human at all? Had she been something else—some primal creature—before this entrapment?
The truth, however, was simpler yet stranger. Sonia had aged.
A century earlier, Sonia Brakor had been a fiery fifteen-year-old girl, hellbent on proving herself worthy of joining her older brothers in the sacred rites of haunting—a dangerous tradition reserved for the male warriors of her village, Unga'Mor. Each dawn, while the men slept to preserve their strength for battles against colossal beasts, Sonia and the village women—including her mother, Sahmira Brakor—rose before the sun. Their duties were unyielding: prepare meals, mend gear, and sustain the rhythms of daily life. Failure to wake meant enduring the village's cruel punishment: a blistering ice shower, a torment Sonia had learned to fear.
Yet Sonia obeyed not out of submission, but something far more cunning. She'd mastered the art of slipping away to practice hunting in secret. Her obsession with the wilds, though, ran deeper than rebellion which was enough to fill those around her with fear.
Though, the prehistoric world called to her—the thunderous roars of creatures long lost to time. The earth-shaking bellow of a tyrannosaurus rex filled her with exhilaration, not dread. She dreamed of riding one, of carving a bond with a beast that could crush armies. But the elders' warnings haunted her: these ancient titans were not merely dangerous—they were merciless, wilder than the fiercest storms.
Finally free from her stone prison and ready to face the world after a hundred years, Sonia Brakor inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling her lungs like a long-forgotten promise that was never fulfilled till now. As she took a step, a strange force sent her knees crashing onto the damp earth, her legs trembling beneath her, making it seem like she was a newborn baby learning how to take it's first step.
She was justified rather, seeing that she still possessed the mind of a fifteen year old. Though, she had learnt many secrets of adulthood from her mother in the past—she was still a child.
The cold seemed to sharpen its teeth against her skin. Her lips quivered uncontrollably, and she wrapped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her flesh as if to confirm she was real.
Gritting her teeth, she dragged herself forward, her body scraping against the frozen dirt until she reached the water's edge. She needed to see. Needed to understand.
The reflection staring back at her was a stranger.
Her hair—once black as the void between stars—now cascaded in waves of ghostly white. Her eyes, previously warm and brown, had hardened into a glacial blue, as if winter itself had seeped into her irises. Every curve, every line of her body had transformed. No longer the wiry frame of a fifteen-year-old girl, she now bore the powerful build of a warrior, her proportions exaggerated in ways that left her breathless. The tattered remains of her old clothing strained against her new form—fabric ripped at the thighs, barely clinging to her waist, the swell of her chest threatening to tear through what little remained.
She ran her hands over her body, tracing unfamiliar contours, her voice trembling as she whispered, "What… What is this?"
The sound of her own words struck her like a thunderclap.
She could speak.
Memories flickered—her birth, her childhood, the crushing silence that had defined her existence. Born mute, she had spent a lifetime communicating through gestures, through the intricate hand signs her kin had learned for her sake. And now… now her tongue moved with effortless grace, her voice smooth and unbroken.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest, raw and disbelieving. She clutched her throat, tears stinging her eyes. After a century of silence, she had a voice.
With renewed strength, she forced herself upright, muscles coiling and adjusting as if her body were remembering its own power. Her bones settled, her stance steadied, and soon she was striding toward the cave's entrance, where vines hung like a tattered curtain, filtering thin slivers of sunlight.
Pushing through the foliage, she stepped into the open—
—and then, in that moment she froze.
Before her, the villagers stood motionless, their faces locked in expressions of terror. Stone had claimed them all, encasing them in grotesque statues, their outstretched hands and widened eyes frozen mid-scream. The wind howled through the empty village, carrying only the distant cries of carrion birds.
Sonia's breath hitched.
She moved numbly among them, her fingers brushing against petrified limbs—recognizing her mother, her brothers, the elders who had once scolded her for sneaking off to hunt. All of them, lifeless. All of them, gone.
As she scanned through the area, trying to understand how this calamity had befallen she and her clan—her answers were soon about to be answered.
Drifting beyond the ruins, her gaze stopped at a cliff—a little memory of how she and her father scouted the heart of the village from troubled her mind, appearing in small short images that glitched into her subconscious, causing her great pain.
Where once sturdy huts and communal fires had stood, now only splintered wood and scattered stones remained. And at its center—a monolith.
A massive rock pulsed with an eerie crimson light, its glow rhythmic, like a heartbeat. The ground around it was scorched, as if it had fallen from the heavens in a blaze of fire.
Sonia's devastation warred with a gnawing curiosity.
'What is that?'
Her village was destroyed. Her people were lost. But this thing—this alien, throbbing mass—was the only clue left.
And the only option she had when it came to uncovering its secrets was getting closer to the thing.
Sonia's gaze darted along the cliff's edge, searching for a path down—but the hillside had been obliterated, the earth torn apart by the force of the rock's impact. What remained was a sheer drop, far too steep to climb. Below, the ruins of her village taunted her, the pulsating monolith glowing like a wound in the earth.
There was only one way down.
Her eyes locked onto the stream—a ribbon of crystalline water snaking from the cave's mouth before plunging into a pool far below. The current was strong, the rocks jagged. A reckless jump. The kind of stunt her brothers would've beaten her for even attempting as a child.
But they weren't here to stop her now.
She backed up, bare feet digging into the dirt. Her muscles coiled. Then—she ran.
Wind screamed in her ears as she launched herself from the cliff, tucking her limbs tight as the world spun. For a heartbeat, she was weightless.
The cold hit like a blade, driving the air from her lungs. Water swallowed her whole, its icy fingers clawing at her skin, her hair, her scars. She kicked wildly, fighting the current as it dragged her deeper. Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision—memories, sharp as shrapnel, lancing through her mind:
—The night sky splitting open—
—A streak of crimson fire—
She gasped, choking on water.
With a final surge, she broke the surface, hauling herself onto the shore. The monolith loomed before her, its glow throbbing in time with her racing heart.
Her hand trembled as she reached out. The moment her fingertips brushed the rock's surface—
—Fire.
Not heat, but energy—a current of something alive searing up her arm. Her nerves lit up with a sensation beyond pain, beyond pleasure: a writhing, creeping invasion, as if the earth itself were crawling beneath her skin.
'What is this?'
She should've recoiled. Should've fled. But the feeling—it was intoxicating. A whisper of power, of understanding, of movement
The rock shuddered.
Tendrils—translucent, glowing red like heated veins—exploded from its surface. They lashed around her wrists, her waist, her throat, lifting her into the air as she thrashed.
"Leave me!" she screamed, but the appendages only tightened, their grip burning where they touched. The glow pulsed brighter, and with each throb, another memory slammed into her:
The monolith crashing into the village square as a red light spread, being the cause of the villagers' fates.
Then—a sound.
A crack.
The rock's surface splintered, fissures racing across its shell like a hatching egg. From within, a clawed hand—*too large, too wrong*—slammed against the interior, peeling back the fragments.
Sonia's blood turned to ice.
The creature that emerged was a nightmare of sinew and shimmering crimson flesh, its skin semi-translucent, pulsing with the same eerie glow as the rock. It hauled itself free on arms too long, too thick—not the stunted forelimbs of a Tyrannosaurus, but something worse.
A muzzle lined with serrated teeth split open, unleashing a roar that shook the ruins.
Sonia knew that sound.
She'd spent her childhood dreaming of it.
But this was no ordinary Rex. The proportions were distorted, mutated—its arms powerful enough to grasp, its body thrumming with unnatural energy. And its eyes…
Two primal, glowing orbs locked onto hers.
This wasn't a dinosaur.
This was something alien.
Something hungrier.